


Squirrel Heads and Cigarettes

by Missy



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: And Rejection Thereof, Bonding, Gen, Parenthood, Smoking, Tentative Friendships - Freeform, Three Things, Yuletide Madness, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16538351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Two times Michael tried to win Tate's approval, and one time they awkwardly, almost, kinda sort of bonded.





	Squirrel Heads and Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nokomis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/gifts).



Michael is three when he leaves a decapitated squirrel head outside of Tate’s bedroom door. There’s so much screaming, so much blood, you’d’ve thought there was a massacre. 

Tate calls him a freak and slams the door in his face.

*** 

Michael is five, and taller than Tate now. He could burn his soul and send him straight to oblivion. He could treat him to the agonies of a fate too many have felt. But instead, when Tate’s not looking, he tries to copy his stance. Slouch like him. Hold his head the same way. Stick out his jaw and try to look strong and intimidating. 

When Tate looks over his shoulder, there is nobody there, and he stomps off to be alone with his anger.

*** 

They sit down on the landing together, side by side, listening to Vivian’s baby scream. They were and never will be never good with the pain of others, and the baby never, ever shuts up on bad days like this.

“I wish I knew what He wants of me,” Michael says.

“Nothing,” says Tate. He wants to say _to use you_. He wants to say that Satan loves dirty tricks, and no matter how friendly you get with him, no matter how much he says he loves you, he's going to fuck you over in the end. 

Michael stares at him with the concussed confusion of a newborn.

Tate just holds out a cigarette- one of Violet’s discards that had been dropped when she tossed it heedlessly aside in her wake. “Wanna smoke, kid?”


End file.
